Healthy Competition
by MyWhitelighter
Summary: Competition, the Doctor knows, is bad. Especially with Mickey Smith who, really, is so far below his intellectual level the TARDIS sometimes has trouble translating him. And yet at the same time, competition with Mickey Smith is totally unavoidable. School Reunion missing moment.


**School Reunion missing moment.**

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**Healthy Competition**

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Competition, the Doctor knows, is bad.

Competition makes people careless, it needlessly fuels ambition that isn't supposed to be there, takes up brain capacity that could be better spent elsewhere and diverts attention away from other, often more important, matters to hand – the Doctor knows. He's used to showing off, and he's damn good at it, but when he's showing off in _competition_ with somebody else? (Which is, of course, rare, because he knows he's one of the most intelligent life forms in the universe, but on the _off-chance_;) that's when he starts to slip.

So while he knows he and Mickey Smith often keep up a rather biting yet entertaining (on his part) repartee, he's prepared to ignore it and focus more on the emergency Mickey claims needs to be dealt with as opposed to the on-again-off-again relationship he shares with his travelling companion. He can't afford to lose that extra brain-power trying to outdo an ape not worth his salt. Super-smart school. Aliens. _Focus_.

With a familiar jolt the TARDIS lands, and although his movements are slow around the console as he performs last minute checks that aren't even slightly necessary, it isn't long before Rose grows impatient and bounds down the ramp excitedly to the door. She pauses for a second to throw a cautious look over her shoulder and make sure that this _is_ 2006, and it _is_ where and when Mickey asked to meet them, lest she stumble out before realising he's made a mistake.

While he had been tempted to leave Mickey waiting outside for a few days, he grins and shakes his head.

"I double and triple checked," he reassures her, so she dazzles him with another smile before diving out of the TARDIS.

He follows, much slower, after collecting his coat and hoping that by the time he's out the door they'll be done hugging – no such luck. This is the bit of their adventures that he dislikes the most. When they hit the 21st century and she remembers she has another life, one that extends beyond him and provides her with things he knows he can never give. The comfort in domesticity, the reassurance of normality. Mickey Smith.

They make a show of greeting each other because Rose is watching, and it's not totally false – at least not on the Doctor's part. He really _is_ glad to see Mickey again. It's been a long time since he's been thought of as a coward, or Mickey the Idiot (he's proved himself more than enough by now), he just can't help but feel resentful that he had to phone and pull them away from wherever the Doctor was going to take Rose next.

Mickey had rung, and she'd gone running. Maybe he was just jealous.

_Not a competition_, the Doctor reprimands himself, _focus_.

He can't dwell on it for too long anyway, of course, because they really do have a crisis on their hands – after a full day of snooping around the school and discovering far more than he bargained for, Sarah Jane Smith included, he knows something is afoot at Deffry Vale. Krillitaines, freaky dinner ladies and suspicious substitute teachers – he just wishes he knew what it was. It's the most important thing to worry about, far more so than any petty competitions and jealousies (he can't waste the brain power!); or so he thinks. If the way Sarah Jane and Rose have been glaring daggers at each other all evening is any indication, they probably don't share the sentiment.

While he finds it touching that they're competing over _him_, he wishes they'd just put everything aside like he has and focus on the most important thing here.

Competition, the Doctor knows, is bad.

It's evening now and he's in Mickey's flat doing some extra research on the school and the spike in results over the past few months while Rose goes home to visit her mother – crisis or no, if Jackie Tyler finds out Rose was in the 21st century and didn't pop round to say hello, even the Krillitaines should be afraid.

The Doctor, on the other hand, can't relax. Not until he knows what's going on.

"So," says Mickey from his station in the kitchen, washing some dishes to kill time while keeping an eye on the Doctor staring at his computer with his thick-rimmed glasses rammed on. "Found anything?"

"Nothing," he mutters, pulling at a few strands of hair, "there's something—I'm just not _seeing_ it."

"Maybe you need a new pair of specs," Mickey jokes, and the Doctor ignores him. It's harder not to make petty jokes at Mickey Smith's expense when Rose isn't around, and even harder to engage with him on an intellectual level. He wishes he could just go back to the TARDIS alone, but he's more likely to find things out here. Maybe he could just send Mickey on an errand.

Chips. Chips sound good.

After a few minutes of silence and chip-contemplation while he scans web pages, Mickey comes into the sitting room and watches him expectantly. The Doctor pretends not to notice.

"Sarah Jane Smith then, eh?" Mickey says, and this gets his attention.

The Doctor doesn't take his eyes off the screen. "What about her?"

"Who is she—really though. Man to man. Not just what you're telling Rose."

He quirks an amused eyebrow at ever having a conversation with Mickey Smith 'man to man'. It's not exactly something they fit into their itinerary when he and Rose come to visit. "There's nothing else to tell," he replies smoothly, "I used to travel with her, now I don't. The end. Finito. Moving on."

Mickey's silent for a bit, and the Doctor becomes reabsorbed in his research.

"Why not?" He asks suddenly.

"Why not what?"

"Why don't you travel with her no more?"

The Doctor sighs and removes his glasses, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Does it matter? It's in the past."

"It mattered to Sarah Jane," Mickey remarks, "and it matters to Rose and me."

Competition, the Doctor grumbles, is frustrating.

He doesn't want to have this conversation, and he certainly doesn't want to have it with Mickey Smith – not when he's enjoyed having Sarah Jane around again but every human around him seems determined to turn it into something negative. He left her behind, so he's a worse man than Mickey. She used to travel with him, so now she and Rose are competing to see who made the better companion, when – _really_ – none of it matters like that in the slightest. It detracts from the more important things – like the Krillitaines. Why couldn't they all apply the same conviction and determination for answers to Deffry Vale?

He puts his glasses back on and leans forward as if to end the conversation. "I'm very busy, Mickey. Do you mind?"

A beat of silence, then in a hesitant voice as if afraid of incurring some kind of alien wrath, he says "is that what you told Sarah Jane?"

The Doctor doesn't answer – because he did, in a way, and he's ashamed to admit it. Things got complicated and he didn't have time to go back for her, and he quickly realised that was for the best. Sarah-Jane needed a life, like they all did inevitably; they couldn't travel with him forever. He dislikes Mickey Smith just that little bit for bringing it up, and inadvertently throwing all he could offer Rose that the Doctor couldn't in his face.

Emboldened by his silence, Mickey carries on. "I mean if this happens to all of 'em eventually I just wanna know what I can do to make it easier for Rose. She weren't so keen last time, if you remember."

Of course he remembers, he mutters under his breath.

Mickey knows he's goading him now, but he can't help but continue. "So how many of 'em have there been, anyways? I'd love to get a load of your excuses, could help a fella out in future."

When the Doctor finally whirls around in his chair Mickey shrinks back from the thunder in his gaze.

"I've been travelling with Rose for two years," he growls, "I'm nine-hundred and three. I don't know why all of you expect me to have been by myself for more than ten times the average human lifespan!"

Mickey flounders for a moment before steeling his resolve. "I'm just lookin' out for Rose, alright? It's easy for you to make a girl feel special, just pick her up and show her the rest of the universe and make her feel like she's the only one out there. I could care less how many girls you've twirled around in your time machine, I just wanna make sure she don't get hurt."

The Doctor takes a deep breath and dislikes Mickey just that little bit more because he's entirely selfless in his musings – just trying to take care of Rose. No more, no less. Maybe he would've continued to do so in such an honest fashion for the rest of his life if the Doctor hadn't 'twirled in', as Mickey so delicately put it. All what-if's and could-be's.

"I travel, Mickey. I'm a traveller. I've been a traveller for a very, very long time. Sometimes I take people with me and sometimes they get hurt—life with me is dangerous, and they all know that when they get on board. Sometimes I lose them. Sometimes they leave because they suddenly realise just how bad it can get," he turns the computer off and stands, shoulders sagging as he turns away, "and sometimes I leave them because I realise the same thing."

Mickey is stunned for a minute at his honesty, not sure what to say in response to that.

"It's easy enough to put yourself in danger, but someone else? Someone you care about? Especially when they—when they trust you so _implicitly _that they never really believe they'll come to any harm? If I wanted to stop Rose getting hurt, I'd have left her with you." He sniffs, his pride crumbling as he finally admits it. "You're a better man than I am, Mickey Smith. You'd take care of her better than I ever could."

Competition, the Doctor remembers, is dangerous.

It brings out the worst in a man – well, a Time Lord. Competition makes it easy to doubt yourself and compare yourself to others, and he feels weak and vulnerable at the confession because he realises it's what he genuinely believes. His lack of confidence in his own fighting chance has led him to throw in the towel before he's even started, and the Doctor is not normally the kind of man to give up without a fight. But he sees her with Mickey and he's _always_ comparing, always in competition, no matter how much he tries to not be.

And through all his observations, he knows two things. Rose always goes back to Mickey Smith, and Mickey Smith always looks after her.

He busies himself shrugging on his coat that was hanging over the chair, not really wanting to continue this conversation and deciding he'd be better off going to the TARDIS after all. Maybe he could do some further analysis on the Krillitaine Oil.

"I—I don't know about that," Mickey stammers, standing awkwardly as he realises the Doctor is going to leave.

And on top of all that, he's modest. The Doctor dislikes Mickey Smith _just that little bit more_.

"I guess we'll never know," the Doctor says, offers Mickey half a smile and walks past him to the door.

"Did you love her?"

The Doctor freezes.

"Sarah Jane, I mean."

He remembers how to breathe again.

"I was a different man back then," he says, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth because it's one of those ironic moments he loves, "quite literally, actually."

"But did you?" The Doctor doesn't answer. "Is that why you left her but you're not leavin' Rose?"

The question is coloured with hurt and curiosity and just a tinge of hope, and Mickey Smith is being so, so _Mickey_, trying to simplify everything into Do's and Do Not's, and the Doctor doesn't know how to respond. The question is wrong on so many levels and he doesn't know how to answer it the right way by pointing out that he's got everything upside down without putting his hearts on his sleeve for the world to see.

"I left Sarah Jane behind because I didn't want her to get hurt," he swallows, "I'm too selfish to do the same to Rose."

This Mickey can understand, this Mickey can relate too – they're both selfish, in their way. They both want her to be happy but they just aren't selfless enough to want her to be happy with the other, so the duelling continues. They'll bicker and they'll fight because deep down they care for her, and they both want her to care for them. More than the other. Wordlessly, when Mickey reaches for a banana and a mug and holds them up as a peace offering, the Doctor's hand drops from the door handle. He discards his coat and returns to the sitting room to restart he computer – Rose will complain if he goes back to the TARDIS, anyway.

They don't speak for a while, except the perfunctory thanks as the Doctor accepts his cup of tea from the other man, and they sit and think, the clacking of the Doctor's hands on the keyboard the only sound.

"Rose left me once," Mickey suddenly says, and as the Doctor looks at him out of the corner of his eye he can see the other man is staring into space, eyes stuck in a past the Doctor knows nothing of. "Worst two weeks of my life. She was always meant for somethin' better, you know? I figured she just worked it out and was off to become somethin' amazing. I was gonna let her go, too. But then she came back."

"She always comes back," the Doctor murmurs, examining some invisible dust on his tie. His confidence has completely failed him now, plummeted far beyond the floorboards – no matter how far across space he shows her, how deep into time he takes her, the moment Mickey Smith picks up the phone she comes running. He's jealous; of course he is. He feels insufficient, because a life with him is hardly the sturdy shoulder she can lean on back home.

Competition, the Doctor grouches, makes him feel like _crap_.

Oddly, though, Mickey's confidence seemed to be heading similarly downwards.

"But she doesn't though, does she?" Mickey's tired tone takes him by surprise, "not since that first time you took her away. No matter how many times she comes back, there's always some part of her that's with you."

The Doctor doesn't answer, because the Doctor doesn't believe him. He continues to type away.

"S'ok though," Mickey continues, "I'm over it. She deserves someone who can..." He trails of, finally meeting the Doctor's eyes. "Twirl her round in a time machine."

This he doesn't deny, and scratches his ear as he looks away – he can't deny the unfair advantage he has over Mickey Smith in the form of the whole of time and space, but neither can Mickey deny the unfair advantage he holds over the Doctor by way of a childhood spent together that he would never know. One thing they can both agree on, though, is that Rose deserves a man who can give her everything she could ever desire – Mickey thought she wanted the stars. The Doctor thought she wanted stability. Maybe they were both right. Maybe they were both wrong.

There is one thing the Doctor knows for certain, and that's that if whatever she wants is within his means, he'll give it to her – he has the utmost faith that Mickey Smith would do the same. That's at least something they have in common.

And because Mickey was so brutally honest he feels compelled to offer something back, because there's almost a kinship there, growing ever so hesitantly between them.

"When I was travelling with Sarah Jane," he says softly, removing his glasses again, "things were different. Very different. My people were alive, for one—and humans weren't really allowed back then. Weell, you could say humans aren't allowed now either, but there's no one to..." Enforce the rule. He remains transfixed with a point on the wall, words falling so quietly that Mickey has to strain his ears to listen. "I've never felt more alone than in those few years before I met Rose. She..."

He couldn't work out how he wanted that sentence to end. She saved him? She cared for him? She fixed him? He was saved from his floundering by Mickey Smith cutting him off, to his surprise.

"I know," he says firmly, nodding his head. "You don't have to say it. I know what she does."

The Doctor breathes in deeply through his nose. "Well, yes," he says louder now, slipping into his old routine, "and she knows too, I'd imagine. She'd have to be blind not to."

There's again silence for a minute, the air hanging heavily between the pair of them.

"You'll take care of her, Doc. I know you will," Mickey says firmly, and the blind faith there tugs at the Doctor's heartstrings and he wonders if Mickey was listening at all to what he was saying earlier.

"And when she wants to come home," the Doctor adds quietly, speaking like it's an inevitability; "I know you will too."

Maybe arguing about this is a waste of time – maybe they should just accept the fact that they both want to take care of her and make themselves a team. When Rose is travelling through time, the Doctor can look after her. When she comes back home, Mickey can look after her. Surely if they both work together, between them she would want for nothing and be kept as safe as can be? Understanding passes between their gazes then, as if they've reached some unspoken mutual agreement on the subject.

Competition, the Doctor realises, is pointless.

Then Mickey Smith smiles and reaches for his by now empty mug of tea to wash up, harping on random questions about K-9 and how he works because he appreciates the need for them to change topic, but the Doctor is oddly pensive. Then he realises he's just spent at least half an hour to an hour bonding with _Mickey_, and he resists the urge to groan.

Except he doesn't care. Not really. And he smiles.

Then the front door clicks open and a blonde brushes in calling out loud greetings. "Alright then, boys. Got anything good on that school then?"

The Doctor fumbles with the computer and realises he's been browsing aimlessly for a very long time, his thoughts somewhat preoccupied. And he thought his priorities were _straight_. "Er—not quite yet, although did you know they offer Latin as a GCSE there? Latin. It's amazing! Funny how Earth always seem to value the dead languages more than the alive ones. No one even knows how it's supposed to be pronounced—unless, of course, they happened to be in possession of a time machine that could take them back to Rome so they could try and fit in with the local lingo. But mind you, if your ship happened to be sentient and brilliant the translator in your head might get in the way a bit."

Rose just blinks at him. "What on Earth were you too gobbing about for two hours then?"

_Two hours?_

"Just stuff," Mickey says, and the Doctor almost cringes at the proud tone of voice he uses in reference to them talking (how did he put it?) 'man to man'. Rose raises an eyebrow.

"Mickey's pigtails," the Doctor corrects mildly, scrolling down some web pages.

"Oi!"

And once the Krillitaines are defeated and all is said and done, maybe it's the unspoken agreement the Doctor thought they'd reached that makes him surprised when Mickey turns around and asks to come along for a trip in the TARDIS. The Doctor was sure they'd established that time and space was _his_ territory, not something they could share. Mickey Smith belonged at home.

Thus, he's immediately tempted to say no, even while Sarah-Jane is imploring him, but there's something else that passes between them now. Mickey Smith's gaze is challenging, and his request is toeing the line of all they talked about the evening prior.

He knows the implication behind that look – Mickey is assuming the Doctor won't rise to the blatant competition. The Doctor, on the other hand, decides that now they've saved the day he can afford to lose a little of his brain power to encourage a bit of rivalry. What Mickey had to remember, though, was that this _was_ the Doctor's domain, and he trespassed at his own peril.

"Okay then," he shrugs, knowing he sounds superior as a challenging smirk plays on the corner of his mouth, "I could do with a laugh."

Competition, the Doctor decides, is healthy.

And may the best man win.

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**Well, that was fun to write! I hope you guys enjoyed it, let me know what you thought on your way out! :) **


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